


Beast

by Colaris



Category: Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Beast - Freeform, F/M, Horror, gruesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29243853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris
Summary: We shouldn't forget that Scarebeast exists - so here is a story for him. Give that creature some love.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane & Elise Shadowrain
Kudos: 1





	Beast

A lonely shadow flickered across the cold concrete wall, following its material host almost stubbornly through the deserted corridor of the small apartment that was in need of a full renovation soon. Something was definitely different than usual today. The personified darkness crept through the dusty streets of Gotham in broad daylight, looking for a way into the dilapidated buildings of the city to claim rotting souls for itself. Jonathan groaned softly and rubbed his wet forehead which was glistening with salty sweat. It was so incredibly hot in the last nights. The former psychiatrist staggered visibly weak in his study and let the dark wood fall into the lock behind him. He fell back against the massive door in an instant, ignoring the mounting pain in his shoulders. The Master of Fear massaged his throbbing forehead, sucked the dry summer air deep into his violated lungs. It scratched his throat uncomfortably. The long work with a variety of deadly chemicals without adequate respiratory protection has taken its well-deserved toll after all these years. The brown-haired man coughed suddenly behind his hand, holding his aching chest with the other. The violent coughing fit lasted for a few seconds, then finally subsided with a mixture of rattling sounds and exhausted gasping from his dry throat. The older man removed his hand from his mouth and stared in disbelief at the roughened palm. The red liquid shimmered in the dimmed light, ran viscously in small rivulets down his pale skin to his bony wrist. Jonathan slowly turned his hand around and looked at the blue veins that literally stuck out of the tissue like icy rivers. The first drops of blood reached his elbow, then fell on the uneven wooden floor under him. Scarecrow grumbled slowly and wiped his hand on the dark coat he was wearing casually. Groaning, he pushed himself away from the door and stumbled cautiously into the middle of the room. All of a sudden it was too much for him. So many thoughts. The heat. The pain. The world around the brown-haired man began to blur in a swirling tangle of red colours, becoming more and more distorted with every passing second into an abstruse copy of the actual space. The former psychiatrist ran both hands through his straw hair, clenching it tightly. The heat became more and more unbearable. He felt like he was burning slowly and painfully. One body part after the other was overwhelmed by this perception and completed the sensation of a blazing fire on his pale skin. A strong jolt penetrated his limbs unexpectedly violently, forcing the older man onto the knee, which was still halfway flexible.

Jonathan clenched his teeth and dug his fingers into his scalp, watching with horror as more and more blood collected on the floor in front of him. A sudden pressure on his back made Scarecrow flinch. His blue eyes wandered over his shoulder as if by themselves, widening at the sight of long, thin claws on his body. The veins on the corresponding leathery skin of the unknown creature glowed an unnaturally bright orange. A colour that the former psychiatrist consciously chose for his fear serum. Something wet suddenly played along his left ear, sank easily into the auricle and twisted smoothly into the ear canal. At the same moment the hissing, multi-level voice of the monster rang out in his head, echoing around almost continuously in his twisted mind: "We ArE hUnGrY, JoNaThAn. So HuNgRy – HuNgRy wE sAy!” A distorted woman's voice repeated the beast's meager statement, followed by its demonic male counterpart, which basically represented the woman's whispering echo. Jonathan was still not quite sure what exactly Scarebeast was and what purpose it had once served before Friitawa alias Fright had practically brought it to life through a provoked mutation. The monster had previously been a purely psychological phenomenon, not more or less. The brown-haired man panted heavily and mumbled completely lost to himself: "I have full control over my body and mind." Scarebeast's almost human hand lazily wrapped itself around the throat of his defenceless host and scratched the pale skin with his dark fingernails . The demon's rough, scaly tongue buried itself noticeably deeper into his ear with each passing second. The thing had meanwhile the terrible habit of appearing completely indiscriminately in his life and bringing pure chaos over everything and everyone who dared to approach him in this rare state. Whether Jonathan turned into the monster or not was an absolute gamble. The indicators for a complete transformation were diffuse and difficult to decipher, especially for unknown outsiders. “FeEd Us”, Scarebeast demanded impatiently in his three voices, “FeEd Us, JoNaThAn. We ArE sO hUnGrY. We NeEd iT. CaN yOu HeAr Us? We! NeEd! It!” 

The former psychiatrist pushed his fingers deeper into his skin. Out of the corner of his eye he could see one of the beast's long legs. This slowly stretched forward, then turned the knee joint by one hundred and eighty degrees and finally touched the ground with the hoof-like foot and came to rest.  
The loosely wrapped belts on the bony knee tightened around the monster's leathery skin. A mist, barely visible at first, came up from the hoof, increasingly condensing in the study. The Master of Fear was slowly losing track of his own breathing. All that finally streamed into his lungs was hot, white smoke, which was recklessly distributed in his overstrained bronchial tubes and wanted to make them burst entirely. Then there was this excruciating heat. Jonathan was visibly gasping for breath now. The creature's second leg dragged audibly across the floor, scratching a little of the brittle wooden floor and finally came to a stop next to the other hoof. The former psychiatrist felt the seething sweat from Scarebeast drip onto his neck. He was getting increasingly dizzy. With the greatest effort he barely audibly replied: “We don't need anything. We - no, I have everything under control. I am the master of my senses and can decide about my body myself." "LiAr!", the monster spat in his mind again and again angrily and after a while added irritably, "YoU aRe a BaD lIaR. We kNoW iT. YoU kNoW iT. EvErYoNe kNoWs. AnD nOw wE sAy iT AgAiN. We! Need! It! ObEy Us!” The brown-haired man trembled under the unfathomable sensations. A hurricane of thousands of thoughts and feelings swirls through all the order that he once created in his brain. Everything that had once disappeared in the eternal oblivion climbed back to the surface unhindered. The creature finally wrapped its claws tightly around the delicate torso in front of him, pressing the will less host against its own chest. It breathed softly: “AnGeR. HaTe. DeSpAiR. FeEd Us, JoNatHan.” The Master of Fear loosened his hands helplessly from his head and lowered them carefully, looking at his limbs as if in a frenzy. He blinked several times, trying to understand or at least try to guess what he was watching with his own eyes right now. Where his fingers once were, the monster's long claws stuck out of the almost white skin, looking for a certain stability with bony adhesions on the loose pieces of skin. Before the older one could say anything about this mutation, he heard footsteps from somewhere in the apartment. Despite the clear noises, no meaningful thought process came together in his otherwise brilliant mind. The only tangible thought that practically persisted was the search for urgently needed food. A fundamentally difficult task for everyone involved. Scarebeast lived on the fear that its victims radiate. It literally sucked the cortisol out of the tattered adrenal glands of his prey and only let go of them when the organ showed no more reaction. So the monster was demonstrably not interested in the worthless blood, living flesh or bare bones. In the end, however, the selected people mostly died from the massive damage to the body.

The being knew neither sympathy nor remorse. What remained was unbridled hatred and a gnawing, almost painful hunger. Jonathan twitched helplessly like a fish a few more times until the monster finally had his body completely under control. At that moment, their souls melted into a deadly collective, which only served the goal of preserving the fading race. Together they got up with a groan and took the first unsteady steps around the study. Both legs were surprisingly powerful. An almost welcome change from the severe walking disability that the former psychiatrist had since the unpleasant meeting with Killer Croc. Much had healed over time, but unfortunately not the torn joints, tendons and ligaments in his left ankle. Thus, the brown-haired limped more than he walked. Scarebeast suddenly jerked his elongated head toward the door and stared at the dark wood. The nostrils trembled evenly while its smelting for victims, taking in the tell-tale scent of his assistant somewhere in the apartment. The monster giggled in a deep voice and growled throatily: “We FiNaLlY hAvE tO EaT. We'Re sO hUnGrY.” Jonathan couldn't help but agree with the being. This inner hunger gnawed at his substance and seemed to want to eat him up. He had to be fed. Urgent. Together they moved towards the door, every step swirling a little smoke under their hooves. In this state, the Master of Fear no longer realized how big and powerful his new shell really was. Despite the still extremely slim build, an irrepressible strength slumbered in the muscles. The organs also worked differently. More quickly. More efficient. Close to absolute perfection. Scarebeast almost ripped the suddenly fragile-looking door off its hinges and jumped into the pitch-black corridor, clawing his fingers and toes into the crumbling wall. The creature crawled leisurely up to the ceiling, moving smoothly overhead through the hallway. Where was she? Together they heard the noticeable footsteps again, this time from the adjacent kitchen. The former psychiatrist decided to stay in place with his other half. They hung upside down in the dark like a wild predator, their partly broken teeth bared to tear and especially kill. Only the two white shining eyes and the slight pulsation of its orange veins betrayed the presence of an almost invisible monster. The kitchen door opened slowly and out came their first unsuspecting victim that night. Elise seemed to be feverishly looking for the light switch in the corridor, but as usual only caught the button that didn't work. While the young woman was struggling with the lighting technology, Scarebeast slowly crept towards her, always careful not to make too noticeable noises with his claws. Only the soft crumbling of the plaster accompanied his elegant movements on the ceiling. When they were exactly above the orange-haired girl, she finally looked confused at her soiled shoulder and rubbed the strange debris between her fingers.

Scarebeast grinned excitedly, which eventually caused a few drops of the viscous saliva to loosen from his mouth. The liquid flowed freely onto the back of his assistant's head. Elise winced heavily and felt her short hair, then looked at the damp hand. She spread her fingers a little, watching as the saliva pulled thick threads between the limbs. The young woman mumbled confused: "What the hell is that sticky stuff?" The next moment, her body became completely stiff. Apparently her mind had successfully negotiated that something was very wrong here. The orange-haired woman finally raised her head slowly and stared in fear at the crumbling ceiling. The scream literally got stuck in her throat. The monster's white eyes bored hungrily into their blue opals, more and more saliva flowed unhindered from its throat. In the next moment Scarebeast pushed away from the concrete and pulled his assistant roughly to the floor, pressing her body with the unusually powerful arms firmly against the shabby wood. The creature hissed in a croaking voice: “HuNgEr. We'Re sO HuNgRy. HaVe tO EaT!”Actually speaking with the mouth was more of a challenge than expected. The lower jaw was now so deformed that the usual way of forming words with the lips was practically no longer applicable. So the sounds came out of the former psychiatrist's throat more than he actually said them. Elise stared at her mentor with wide open eyes. She somehow still seemed to recognize him, but that didn't lessen the fear and panic in her mind. Scarebeast moved one of his hands to her right kidney. A long awaited feast was imminent.


End file.
